


A Flame in Winter

by madealine



Category: MCU, Marvel
Genre: Bucky is The Winter Soldier, Canon-Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madealine/pseuds/madealine
Summary: It was cold. That was the first thing her addled brain recognized. Next was the throbbing in her head, followed by an ache in her left arm, and to top it all off the familiar feeling of handcuffs around her wrists.There was a man standing in the corner of the room watching her with interest.“Who the hell are you?”
Relationships: Black Widow/Winter Soldier, Natasha Romanoff/Bucky Barnes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	A Flame in Winter

***

Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.

***

It was cold. That was the first thing her addled brain recognized. Next was the throbbing in her head, followed by an ache in her left arm, and to top it all off the familiar feeling of handcuffs around her wrists.

The Black Widow took in her surroundings. She was in a cabin of sorts, decorated with gray walls and a few heavily dusted paintings. The chair she was currently strapped to seemed to be the only thing that wasn’t at least a hundred years old, though if she had been able to turn her head around she would’ve seen an array of shelves filled with different chemical concoctions. To her right was a broken window filtering in the budding rays of sunlight as birds began to sing their songs. It was snowing softly outside. Still in Russia, I assume, she thought wearily. She had never wanted to come back to her home country, but S.H.I.E.L.D. had needed her to safely escort a man out of Iran to their base in Norway. He had been put in protective custody, but Fury feared it wasn’t enough, so he sent Natasha to find him. While she was very, very strong, she was not invincible, and making the trip from Norway to Iran was long and grueling if one had to travel in secret. She was given a small pack of food and water and a file filled with information on the target. She would not be able to make the trek in one go, and unfortunately for her, her nearest safe house and rest point was on the outskirts of Snezhinsk, Снежинск, driving her straight into the depths of her homeland. 

Her fear of being caught by her former “family” was all consuming, but she couldn’t think of that when working for the most formidable organization on Earth. She was safe in Russia, and more importantly she could locate her target, which is what she had been trying to do until this happened.

Natasha wriggled her hands, finally finding her lock-pick and setting to work on the cuffs. Millions of thoughts raced through her head. Why was she here? What was going on? Her stomach growled angrily at her, and she wondered when she had last eaten. Two, three days ago? Maybe even longer, depending on when she was found. Just as she felt the cuffs begin to loosen, someone coughed.

It was a man the size of a mountain, and for a fleeting moment she thought Captain America had been magically reincarnated and sent to accompany her, but she knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had protocols and tying up one of their best soldiers wasn’t one of them.

Don’t engage, play it cool, Yelena’s voice whispered in her ear. You’re a spy, not a hostage, use that to your advantage! Get the drop on him first, you’ve got the element of-

“Who the hell are you?” Dammit, Tasha!

The man stuck to the shadows, carefully avoiding the light as to keep her from seeing him. He was good, far too good for her liking. Still, something about him screamed familiar.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova,” came the whispery, muffled response. He had some kind of accent, but it was hard to place. It was as if he was from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, a skill Natasha had tried to master for years. How he knew her full name, she could never guess. She had made sure to wipe it from every database on Earth, for very few of them had it in the first place. To the world she was the Black Widow or Natalie Rushman, nothing else. A whisper, a shadow, so how had he found out who she was?

Be warm. Keep him guessing. “Funny, last time I checked that name was mine.”

“It still is.” The man raked his empty hand along the wall, and the shrill sound of metal scratching metal followed. But if he wasn’t holding anything, then that must mean...

Check his arm, Natasha!

Before she could adjust her eyes enough to see, he took an abrupt step towards her. She flinched. Get it together, you can’t show any weakness. You’re supposed to be better than this! The sunlight glinted off his arm, and if his arm wasn’t made of metal Natasha would’ve recommended a doctor. The arm displayed a red star, one she knew quite well. She had been hit by that arm more times than she could count, almost as many times as she had dodged it. She traced the arm with her eyes all the way to his face, which was half covered by a muzzle. He reached up with both the metal arm and the arm made of flesh and bone and peeled off the mask. 

Underneath it was The Asset.

The New Fist of HYDRA.

The Winter Soldier.

“It’s been a while, little spider.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. It was fitting, in a grotesque way, that he should be the one to find her. He trained her, after all. If anyone would know her tricks, it would be him. She had to play this carefully, or else her neck could end up in his metal grip.

Something deep and primal within her told her what to do. She could almost hear her old teacher, Headmistress, whispering for her to compose herself. Ты будешь жить, Наталья, потому что тебя этому учили. You will live, Natalia, because you were taught to. играй со своей едой. Don’t play with your food. She shuddered as the familiar phrases played in her mind. No, she would not play with her food this time.

“Солдат.” Soldier. Languages came as easy as breathing to her, but none were as comfortable as her native tongue.

“Так ты меня узнаешь.” So you recognize me. Of course she did. She hated him. She loved him. She felt a lot of things when she heard his name, and she was trained to feel nothing. He confused her programming. 

“Да.” Yes. Sometimes, things like that were better left unsaid.

“Good.” He paused to study her. She did the same. His eyes were tired but not dead, never dead. He was always alert in the years she knew him, whether he had slept or not. Today, though, the knife in his eyes seemed duller, which she was grateful for though she knew better than to underestimate him. His hair was unkempt and greasy, but when had it ever been anything else? There were rings around his eyes, presumably from where the goggles had pressed into his face. Speaking of his face, it was unshaven, though it hadn’t had much time to grow. He’s been after you for long, but not too long. You should’ve done better- she cut off the thoughts quickly. Self-pity would get her nowhere with The Winter Soldier, as it got her everywhere most places and he was the opposite of everything she had ever known. His arms were still giant, his shoulders were still broad, and his legs were still tree trunks that were glued to his body by a slim waist. She wanted to pretend she didn’t know what he looked like beneath that armor. Pretending, or playing make-believe as she used to say, was her specialty. So she shut her mind to the past and focused on the updated weapons that were presently meant for her. Guns, swords, knives, and a little black dagger that caught her eye. He noticed. She moved on. His eyes caught on her hair, still the red shade he knew. She was ashamed to admit that she always tried to keep it red so that, maybe, he might find her. Red hair was rare, but red hair and green eyes was rarer. She did anything to put her apart from the world, to make her rememberable. He moved on. Both of them studied each other, blue and green eyes flitting around rapidly until they finally stared each other down. Her hands paused against the cuffs. The Asset smirked. She blinked. “I have missed you, Natalia.”

Her heart rate picked up. For all his advancements, she prayed he didn’t have elevated hearing. After all, that wasn’t supposed to mean anything, so why did it feel like it meant everything?

Don’t over analyze, don’t overthink, Yelena whispered in her mind’s eye. He’s playing you like a fiddle, Widow! Yelena’s disembodied voice was right, he had caused a reaction, and in turn she needed recompense. She needed to get something from him, anything would do. “It’s Natasha now. What are you going by these days?” 

Sloppy.

The Winter Soldier thought so, too. He chuckled, the sound coming out strained and grainy. “I’m sorry, little spider, but mind games don’t work on me anymore. At least, not yours.” Stay cool, Natasha, don’t let him in again...

“Pity, picking apart your brain was gonna be fun.”

“I’m sure. But that’s not what I’m here for, unfortunately.” He took a few cautious steps towards her. Good, good. He was still wary of her. She could use that.

“What, no fun? Remember the good old days, when we’d work together on a mission? We’d kill some nice looking guards and the old men they were protecting, have dinner, head back to my place...” Gimme something, Солдат, something to work with.

“I remember. I have the scars to prove it.”

Anything but that.

Years ago, when Natasha was Natalia and The Winter Soldier was less than a ghost and more like an idea, they had... been together. Natalia was young (twenty-three if she remembered correctly, but everything from those days was fuzzy) and she was frightened of him. She was frightened of everything back then. Newly sterilized and ready to be made an assassin, Natalia needed something, though she didn’t know what. She tried to reignite the flame she felt when training with him. When scouting for targets in a bar she relished the taste of tequila. In clubs where they hid she found drugs that made her feel everything and drugs that made her feel nothing, and she didn’t know which she liked more. She found solace in destroying herself. Those people had taken away one of her most prized choices, so to compensate she chose not to eat, or she chose to sleep as long as her next target allowed her, or to drink her nights away, or to do drugs until the days began to blur together, and on and on until there was nothing left to do but wait for the next kill. The next bullet in her gun. The effects of such things never lasted long because of the diluted super soldier serum that flowed through her veins, but it was fun while it lasted. 

When she first met The Asset outside of a training session, he was forced to kiss her on a mission. It wasn’t supposed to happen, because Солдат was never supposed to be seen. But missions can go awry, and both of them were prepared with contingency plans if they did. His kiss wasn’t sweet and it didn’t make her heart erupt in passion, but it was a change and change was seldom found in the Black Widow’s life, so she liked it. When it was over, he whispered in her ear, “You’re like a flame in winter, Natalia. A flame in winter.” She didn’t know why, but it made her heart flutter. After that, she made sure to accidentally sabotage all of their missions together so he would kiss her.

Again. And again. And again. 

Each time, he would mutter those little words and she would shudder. Maybe he thought she was a terrible assassin and an even worse spy, but what did she care if it meant his lips on hers and his metal arm searing his fingerprints into her skin. Every time he was reprogrammed by his masters, her masters scolded her, and yet they always ended up in the same position many months later. When they finally did give in to instinct and break protocol, they were in a dingy hotel room that surely had rats and smelled like piss. The lights flickered so they turned them off, the fan was loud so they kept it on, the bed was hard and sticky (she would understand the irony in that later) so he pressed her against a wall and...

A flame in winter indeed.

It was good. It was all very good. The morning after left Natalia with a queasy stomach and The Asset with a new scar across his lower abdomen. She had been aiming lower, but he caught her hand in time. Instinct, it seemed, was not her forte. She much preferred her training to improvisation. The Black Widow had no contingency plan for sex, and The Winter Soldier took the brunt of her anxiety. 

The tapping of the dagger against his arm brought her back to reality.

It’s fine, Yelena whispered. Play along. “You’re not still mad about that, are you? Come on, gunslinger, that was years ago!”

“One thousand six hundred and eighty-two days.” Shit.

“Right. Well-“ Солдат chuckled darkly again. Where the Black Widow was sitting, or rather tied up, this was not going well. “I take it you’re here on business?”

The Asset stalked around her chair and grabbed a small table that was settled behind her. Dragging it into her line of sight, he picked up a discarded stool and set it in front of her as well. The two soldiers stared at each other for a moment before he slammed a file - her file - on the desk. “Jalil Lankarani went down to his work center in Tehran two weeks ago and hasn’t been heard from since. His wife and two children haven’t left their home in the same amount of time. Coincidentally, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents have been spotted in their neighborhood, though I have no doubt there are more.”

Fuck fuck fuck shit no goddammit how the hell did he find it? Fuck shit dammit-

“...cool?”

The knife in Солдат’s eyes grew sharp again. 

He slammed his fists onto the table, making a loud bang echo throughout the room. He’s going to kill you now, little Widow. Come join your Headmistress in hell, why don’t you- “I know Lankarani has been put into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s protective custody. Tell me where they’ve hidden him, and I promise to give you a head start.”

“Ooh, how long?” He cocked his head at her, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Tell me where he is, Natalia.”

It was her turn to smirk. “Why should I?”

“Because...” he blinked at her, the knife going dull again. His eyes grew misty. “I miss you.” Damn. Natasha tried not to listen. She was a double agent, too, she knew how to contort the mind to believe what she wanted it to believe. But, god, his eyes... “We could do this, together, like the old days you’re so fond of.”

Natasha blinked, and the knife was back.

So he was lying to her. Fine. It was time to take Yelena’s advice.

Like a spider spinning a web, she felt herself grow cold as her mind coiled in on itself. She was dancing to a familiar song now, one The Asset had heard before and quickly grew cautious of. He was smarter than her other hits, she had to admit. But he was a man regardless of the metal, and she was a spider programmed to catch him in his own lies. Within a blink, she was once again Natalia Romanova.

The Winter Soldier leaned back.

“While that’s touching, HYDRA should’ve programmed you to lie better,” she whispered as her hands resumed their silent work on the cuffs. “Ya know, they say you never look back at a target once the mission’s complete. That true?” He narrowed his eyes. What was her game now?

“Maybe.” He sat back in his stool and watched her study him. He knew her very well, and he knew when to be afraid. The Winter Soldier was never afraid, however, but he did know how to act like he was. He was very, very good at the art of make-believe. “What can I say that will make this process easier, or do you intend to make it difficult?

“Dunno, it’s kinda fun to watch you scramble. I’m really just making this up as I go along, you know, that classic tactic they teach us all in spy school.”

There. The Asset had been reprogrammed many times, but he always remembered her fiery hair as soon as he woke. And he remembered where she came from. She was a spy, yes, but she thought herself a monster, and who better to create a monster than- “The Red Room misses its greatest assassin dearly.”

Natasha flinched. Her eyes grew wide at the mention of her home. No, not her home, not anymore. She promised herself never to go back, and here was this figment of her past that she had let crawl into her mind because, what, because they slept together? She had been with plenty of people since him, his hold on her should be broken! Breathe, Yelena murmured. It will all be over soon. Get what you need and go. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m not the woman I once was, Солдат.”

“I know. Why do you think they sent me to take down the notorious Black Widow?” So it had been for a purpose. This mission of his was double sided. Yes, he was looking for the famed nuclear engineer, but he had another task - return the Black Widow to her place in the Red Room. They knew how this would affect you, Tasha. You’ve gotten careless and they noticed. He noticed. “This is all quite pathetic, Romanova,” he muttered, leaning forward again. His lips almost brushed her ear when he spoke again. “Really, you should know better. You can’t leave a place like the Red Room behind. They will come for you, as they already have. They will find you, as they have tasked me to do. And when the dust is settled, they will either have your loyalty, or they will have your head.”

The Asset turned his body just so, and she locked eyes with him. He could’ve kissed her. She wanted him to. It would’ve been fitting, another mission sabotaged just so she could make-believe he wanted her, too. 

“And what will you have?” She was starting a dangerous game, and one they had played before. He had the scars to prove it. “When the dust is settled?”

His gaze roamed her face. She could’ve sworn they lingered on her lips, as hers did on his, but they ended back in her green eyes again. 

Say you want me, too. Say it and we can run away together, just you and me. Please. Say you lo-

“My next assignment.” Her face turned to stone. “Now tell me, little spider, where is Jalil Lankarani?”

Lie. “I don’t know.”

“Funny, I thought Headmistress had taught you to lie.” She winced again. 

Солдат rose from his seat and shuffled behind her again. She could hear glass clanking in his metal hand and the sizzling sound of something being poured into a beaker. “What are you doing?”

“I know you, Widow,” he said as he continued his work. “I know you’re resolve like I know my own, and however stressful the situation it doesn’t tend to break.”

“So, what? You giving up?” God, please be giving up.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Yes. “No, I’m going to do something that will hopefully-“ he made his way back into her sight, a large syringe balanced in his human hand, “-make you feel better.” The cuffs were almost undone, if she had a few more moments she could be free... 

Scramble. 

“What would really make me feel better is you letting me go. It’s not very polite to stick a girl with unknown chemicals, ya know. I only do unknown chemicals with friends, and last time I checked you and I were strictly business.”

That damning chuckle escaped him again. “That’s what this is, little spider. Business.”

Almost there, Tasha. Keep going.

“Honestly, we’re more hostile work colleagues than anything, so you can skip the syringe now.” Only a little more...

“You babble when you’re nervous,” he said, smiling almost softly. “It’s adorable.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to keep you distracted.” Thirty more seconds and she’d be free!

“Don’t worry,” Солдат said as he flicked air bubbles out of the syringe, “the cuffs holding you to this table are explosive, set to blow only if unlocked without the key. So I’m sure the babbling is just nervousness, because I’d hate for those pretty little hands to be gone forever.” She halted. 

Call him on his bluff. That would be a great idea, she thought, if The Winter Soldier bluffed.

“Glad to see you still think ahead.”

He nodded. “Unlike you, I haven’t gotten rusty.”

You need a different tactic. Provoke him.

“Huh, I thought all the rain would surely get to the arm someday-“

Bad idea! Солдат lunged at her, his human arm seizing her neck in his grasp. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be without air. It was a good thing The Asset was here to keep her humble. 

“I’ll give you one last chance.” His voice gruff, he tightened his grip on her throat. “Where. Is. Lankarani?”

She managed to choke out, “I. Don’t. Know.” 

The Asset nodded regretfully. “Fine.” He released his hold on her and she greedily sucked in air. “This is untested technology, so I don’t know what it will do to you. It’s a truth serum created by HYDRA, only to be used on those with exceptional strength. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Now the chemicals aren’t unknown anymore.” He grinned boyishly. He looked like the man he was before he was turned into a killing machine, whoever that man used to be.

Don’t fall for it, Tasha. Talk.

“Or, and give me the benefit of the doubt here, you could listen to me now and we could do this without me getting jabbed with a needle.”

“Natalia, we both know you’re clever. You hide secrets and store information, just like spies and double agents always do. You can’t hide from me. Give in.”

She wanted to. Badly. But she made an oath to Clint Barton and Nick Fury, and she made an oath to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who trusted her to do the right thing. Her mission was more important than whatever this thing between them was. As he plunged the needle into her arm, the Black Widow did the only thing she could think to do.

She steeled her mind and bit down on her tongue. Hard. 

When at the Red Room, Natasha had been injected with a modified version of Steve Rogers’ super soldier serum. It made her stronger, faster, smarter, and more flexible. This meant that, by biting her tongue as hard as possible, she could already feel it swelling to twice its normal size. She had bitten a sizable chunk of the muscle almost in two, and she would most definitely need a surgery to fix it. But another thing about the serum: it made her incredibly good at hiding pain.

“Where is Lankarani?”

She shrugged.

“I see it hasn’t taken effect yet. Don’t worry, I’ve got all the time in the world.” They both knew he was lying.

After a few moments the blood in Natasha’s mouth was getting hard to swallow around her now massive tongue. She kept her jaws tightly sealed though, and The Winter Soldier had yet to notice her condition.

He asked again. This time she had to clench her jaw to keep from opening her mouth.

“I’m getting impatient, Widow.” He clenched her jaw with the metal hand. “Tell me where he is!” 

He forced her mouth open, and the Black Widow spit a mouthful of blood up at The Winter Soldier.

She didn’t expect him to smile.

His hand was still touching her face. Slowly, as if not to hurt her, he brushed her hair out of her eyes, letting his gaze linger on the red locks. She watched him, stunned, as he caressed her cheek with the hand that had killed so many. His hand traced the shape of her face, only stopping when his thumb tugged on her lower lip. They both laughed silently and conspiratorially at each other when a dribble of blood slipped out of her mouth. He whispered sweetly, “I adore you, my flame in winter.” Her heart fluttered. “Unfortunately, adoration isn’t fit for a soldier.” The last thing Natasha remembered was a metal arm before darkness consumed her. 

While she slept, The Asset set to work on her tongue. Every time they did this, she found more ways to escape his questioning. That was alright, though. He would trap the little spider eventually.

When she woke, it was cold. That was the first thing her addled brain recognized. Next was the throbbing in her head, followed by an ache in her left arm, and to top it all off the familiar feeling of handcuffs around her wrists.

There was a man standing in the corner of the room watching her with interest.

“Who the hell are you?”

***

Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.

Benign...

***

After weeks of searching, Natasha finally found Jalil Lankarani. She had taken a brief stop in Russia, and while she had only planned to stay for two days, she woke up one morning to find nearly a week had passed, putting her behind schedule. Fury sent out the call to have Lankarani moved in fear of her being compromised, forcing her to track him down. S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken him to a remote facility on the outskirts of Iran, and when she arrived and proved her identity and innocence, they lent her a car, some food and water, and a bag of money and sent her on her way with Lankarani in tow.

They had been driving for two hours on countless backroads before he tried speaking to her.

“Hey. M-my name’s Jalil.”

“I know.”

“Right. Of course you do. Everyone does these days.” He tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. “If something happens to me... are- is my family gonna be alright?”

She didn’t answer him. The Black Widow didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. He didn’t try to make conversation again. 

They were nearing Odessa, Ukraine, before their tires were blown out.

“What was that?” Jalil asked. He was naive and he was going to die if she didn’t do something fast.

“Shit!” She swerved away from an incoming car and in the process drove them off the road.

Down, down, down they rolled until finally the car came to a stop. First checking herself for any major injuries, she turned as much as she could to assess Lankarani.

“Wh-what’s happening...?”

Lie.

“Nothing, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” She struggled against her seatbelt, eventually deciding to cut both hers and his to make an escape easier. She crawled out of the broken window onto the snowy ground outside. Her arms were covered in hundreds of tiny cuts, some filled with glass, but she pushed through the pain and punched out the back window.

Lankarani, who at first glance was quite a scrawny man, was heavier than he looked. Natasha grabbed him by the waist and hauled him out of the window, cutting her stomach in the process. “Dammit, Lankarani...” She laid him on the ground and checked for a pulse. It was there, beating strongly against her fingertips. “Jalil? Jalil? Lankarani, talk to me!” His eyelids fluttered open.

“Wh-wha...?”

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re safe now, I’m gonna keep you safe, okay? I just need you to keep talking to me, okay? Can you do that, Jalil?”

He nodded wearily. That was good enough for her.

Someone shot out your tires. They’re going to try and finish the job, Tasha. Stop them.

Just then, a shot rang out from the street up above them. Natasha drew her handgun and fired back, but whoever it was was too far away to get a clear shot. The man in question took a step forward into her line of sight. She took the shot and-

The bullet bounced off his left arm.

The Winter Soldier.

A shiver ran through her. They had played this game enough times for her to remember her next move. She shoved Lankarani behind her and made herself a human shield. “Don’t move, Jalil! Stay behind me,” she shouted, still taking shots at Солдат.

Don’t get familiar, Natalia. You are supposed to be better!

She silenced her mind and began moving with Lankarani towards the safety of the car. Lankarani started to wail, “He’s gonna kill me! Oh god, I’m gonna die here, what’s gonna happen to my wife? My sons?”

Lie. “They’re gonna be fine, Jalil!” Lie. “They’re gonna grow up with a father! Please just stay behind me!” Lie. “I’m gonna keep you safe!” But Jalil didn’t believe her. He stopped in his tracks and stared up at the man hunting him, prepared to meet a noble death. 

No. You need him.

She jumped in front of him as Солдат lined up his shot. Natasha was crouching over the target’s head, ready to die for him. If need be, she would.

The Winter Soldier saw his opening and fired.

She heard the sound before she felt anything. Turning, she met The Asset’s eyes and understood. She didn’t need to look down to see Lankarani was dead beneath her. If she didn’t stop the bleeding, she would be dead soon, too. But she couldn’t help looking up at that man that could’ve killed her years ago. She wanted to see if he regretted it, any of it. 

She didn’t.

The Black Widow mulled over that fact for what seemed like hours. She regretted a lot of things in her life, yet the one thing she was trained to despise was the only thing she would do again. She wouldn’t say she loved him, or maybe she did, but she also didn’t know if she knew what love meant. She thought she had it with Clint, but he was like a brother to her now. There were men and women she met along the way who sparked something primal inside her, but that wasn’t love. She never knew the soft hand of a mother or the shoulder of a father. There were no siblings, the only thing she had were the other girls in the Red Room, most of whom despised her because of Headmistress’ favoritism towards her. 

She didn’t know love, but she knew the outline of his face against the sun. She knew the scars that laced his chest and the ones across his back. She could see every freckle, every mole just from memory alone. She knew him more than she knew herself, and more than he knew himself. She could feel the way he fought, hear how he chuckled, taste how he tasted. Did he know everything about her? Did he want to? Did she want him to? All she had ever known was a make-believe half life, and he was a ghost story that scared the children in Russia. Could they make anything real?

She spared a glance downwards and thought her blood looked exceptionally beautiful against the snow. Giggling drunkenly, she laid her head against Jalil’s cold body. Was it cold because it was dead or because of the snow? She couldn’t quite remember now. There was no pain, no fear. She felt at peace lying in the snow waiting to die.

For once, the assassin let herself sleep.

And for once, the assassin made himself look back.

***

Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.

Daybreak...

***

Waking up was always the hardest part. Natasha vaguely remembered someone dragging her from the snow and up a cliff. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong, but what was it?

“Good morning, Agent Romanoff.” Natasha’s reflexes kicked into overdrive and she shot up, but the sharp pain in her body forced her back down onto the bed. “Well, don’t get so happy to see me! I know we’re friends, but we must remain professional.” Nick Fury sat in a chair at the foot of her bed fiddling with something in his coat pocket.

“Director Fury... what happened?”

Fury sighed. Clearly, whatever was supposed to happen did not turn out the way he wanted. “You were sent on a covert operation to Iran to transport a, uh, package of sorts back to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s base in Norway. Along the way you stopped somewhere in Russia and we were unable to track you. A few days later you showed up in Iran lookin’ a little worse for wear, but my men gave you your supplies and the package and sent you on your way.”

“I’m assuming it didn’t go as planned.”

He scoffed, muttering, “I’ll say. Something stopped you near Odessa and took out the package. You were found near the edge of the highway with a bandage stopping the blood flow from your abdomen.”

“Abdomen...” It all sounded very familiar, but Natasha’s brain was clouded by pain meds that were not working as well as she wanted them to. “Fury, what happened?”

“Well, to me, Romanoff, it looks like our shooter shot through you to take out the package, and then felt a little guilty about it and dragged you to safety.” Natasha’s eyebrow furrowed. What kind of assassin would save a witness to their crime? Unless... no, she hadn’t seen him in years, there was no use entertaining false hope.

She tried to sit up again but Fury gently pushed her back onto the pillows. “You sure it wasn’t just some Good Samaritan trying to do his deed of the decade?”

“Nah,” Fury shook his head, his hand returning to his pocket. “Those were medical grade bandages applied by an expert. So unless this Good Samaritan was a doctor that decided to forgo calling an ambulance, I’d place my money on the assassin that did this to you.” Don’t get hopeful, Tasha. It’s not a good look on you.

“Do you know who he was?” Pathetic. Searching for a scrap of information about the man who shot you because you fancy yourself in lo-

“Nope. We found our package at the bottom of a cliff near you. The bullet was a Russian slug, untraceable. We’re doin’ our damndest to find him, but the son of a bitch is like-“

“Like a ghost.”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly like a ghost, Agent Romanoff.” Natasha made herself relax, but inwardly she was sobbing. She couldn’t tell if it was from grief, joy, fear, or desperation, but something in her released and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. Fury stood from the chair, his hand returning to his pocket. “Well now, you get some rest. Oh, and before I forget,” he took his hand from his coat and extended the handle of a small black dagger to her, which she gingerly accepted. “This was found next to you. It had your fingerprints on it, so I assumed it belonged to you.” It didn’t, it belonged to him. He had left this for her, some kind of calling card, and she was determined to answer. She would find him. Even if she had to hunt him down like a dog, she would find him. “Is it yours, Agent Romanoff?” She smiled up at him.

Lie.

“It is. Thanks for picking it up, I don’t think I’d be alive without it.”

He patted her knee gently. “Of course. Now, take it easy, girlie. In a few days we’re flying you back to America. There’s a man there you need to look into for the AVENGERS Initiative.” Fury turned on his heel and strutted out of the hospital room.

“Still going on about that, huh, Fury?” She called to him.

“You know it! Go to sleep, Natasha!” 

She huffed out a laugh and murmured, “Will do, boss.” Her eyes were drawn to the dagger in her lap.

Carefully, she raised it to her eyes to inspect it. There was nothing significant about it. It seemed brand new, thought she knew it had been used. The blade and handle were charcoal black. It wasn’t particularly sharp or bendable. It was utterly boring, but it belonged to him. She dragged her finger along the blade, accidentally nicking it on the edge. A droplet of blood fell onto her white sheets.

Heh, she thought. Just like a flame in winter.

***

Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.

Longing...

***

Years passed. Natasha searched for the ghost story only to find nothing. She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. She had scrambled through archives and finally found some scrap of his past, and though it wasn’t much, she had thought that she could use it on him.

No, not on him. She thought she could... what? She wasn’t an assassin anymore. She wasn’t a spy. She was... she was an Avenger, and that made her different. She had become more important to the world, and to the people in it. She had a family now, a family who taught her what love meant. If Fury was a father figure, then Maria Hill was a mother. Steve, the soldier out of his time, showed her what a man could be: strong, patient, and kind. Tony taught her patience in the face of annoyance, but she loved him despite the ego. Clint taught her forgiveness, something she had once considered a grave weakness. Her child-like wonder came from Thor. And Bruce... well, Bruce taught her fear, but he also showed her bravery. She had a family now, she knew what love was.

So why was she so determined to find him?

Part of her wished her new family hadn’t gradually shut up Yelena’s disembodied voice. Though the two hated each other, Yelena gave good advice. Now, Natasha had to act on instinct instead of programming, and many times it had almost cost her her life. She tried to ignore it, but her instinct told her to find him.

So she stuck his dagger into her boot and tried.

The Winter Soldier, however, did not want to be found. Steve Rogers would ask her later if she knew anything about him, and her instincts told her to lie. So, lie she did. The truth was, Natasha knew everything that was unimportant about The Asset. She knew him like she knew herself, but she hadn’t even know his name until she did some digging. Coincidentally, that was what she planned to use on him should their paths ever cross. She got the opportunity. 

Natasha did find him. Once.

She had tracked whispers in the wind all the way to Nazarovo, Krasnoyarsk Krai. Apparently, the famed assassin had been spotted a few miles north of the small town, so she assumed wherever he was staying was somewhere in the area. She had packed enough food and water for a week’s journey, but she was able to spread it out for longer if need be. Fortunately, her meeting with The Asset came sooner than she had anticipated. 

She had climbed a nearby cliff in hopes of a vantage point, and instead found him. He was standing at the edge of the tree line staring out into the town below.

Now’s my chance, she thought. She said a quick prayer and called out, “James?” Her voice was strangled and breathless from the climb, but she couldn’t care less because he turned to her and blinked. Please remember me please remember me please remember me- “James,” she called out again, more sure of herself this time.

She walked to him, now standing only a few feet away. He hadn’t moved. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn he was made of marble. She reached out to touch him, but he caught her hand in his metal fist. “Наташа?” 

He remembers me. Her heart rate picked up. This wasn’t good, why did she think this would work? Don’t forget to breathe, don’t freak out. She relaxed her mind and felt the gears gently turning in her mother tongue. Дыши, Наташа. Это то, чего ты хотел. “Да,” she breathed. “Это я, Джеймс.”

“How do you know that name?”

She gasped out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. “I spent years trying to find you. I searched every database known to man, I scrounged for scraps on who you are, and I finally found something. It wasn’t much, but it was something,” her hand went to her pocket. “James. That’s your name, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question, they both knew that, but she wanted to be kind. 

“I-“ his eyes filled with recognition, but he quickly blinked it away. “My name is Солдат,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “No, I- I don’t have a name. I am Солдат.”

Natasha sighed. This isn’t working... “No, James, you’re not. That’s what they told you, but,” she leaned down to pluck the dagger from her boot, “would a soldier leave a witness this?” The dagger glinted accusingly in the sunlight. James flinched. 

So he does remember...! “What are you talking about?” He’s just making it difficult. Fine, I can explain, she thought, readying herself.

“Four years ago, you were sent to kill a man under my protection. You shot out my tires and when I pulled Jal- your target out of the car, you shot him,” she pulled up her shirt, “through me.” He glanced down at her scar, his hand automatically moving to touch it, but she stepped away. “A few hours later I was found with a bandaged stomach laying near the highway for anyone to see. You should’ve killed me, James, but you didn’t. You’re more than your programming.”

His fist still held hers, and his other hand lingered at her waist. His eyes flickered and became cold. Natasha gasped as his grip tightened, and he leaned in close to whisper, “Are you?”

He pulled her forward, the sun reflecting off his arm and blinding her. His other hand wrapped around her throat as he lifted her up to slam her into the ground. She wrapped her legs around his arm and twisted her body clockwise, grimacing as the metal shrieked in protest. James fell to the ground and she quickly pinned him with a knee to his throat. “Please, just listen to me, James!” He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her to the right. His metal hand came down next to her head.

“Why should I?” His grip on her throat tightened. “You’re a spy, Natalia. You lie as easily as you breathe. You lie with every heartbeat, why should I-“ the dagger came up and pierced him where metal met flesh. He cried out, rolling backwards and she used the momentum to pin him again.

“You’re better than this, James! You’re not a monster,” she said, her hand still holding the handle of the dagger in case he tried to attack.

“What, like you?”

Ouch. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she blamed them on the cold. She had given up this life, and he wasn’t going to drag her back into it. The red in her ledger was wiped clean after Loki attacked New York. She didn’t owe anyone anything, not anymore. Her debt was payed.

So why did that hurt so much?

“No, James. Not like me. Like-“ she paused, trying to steady her breathing. “Like the monsters who did this to us.”

He faltered, his breathing becoming irregular beneath her. “I remember you, little spider. I always remember you.” Shut up, you’re making this harder than it needs to be, James. He blinked up at her. “Why do you always find me?”

She hadn’t expected that. She had come prepared with a how, a good enough when, and he already knew where. But why? Did she know? All those years ago, she thought it was because he taught her something she never knew. Now she understood what love was, now she had a family, so she didn’t need his constant presence anymore. He had become such an important part of her life that she had trouble letting him go. Maybe it was because she knew him, and she was confident that she knew him. She thought she knew the Avengers, but everyday they surprised her with new motives and beliefs she had never considered before. They were the change she had been searching for, so what was he? She guessed he was her constant. He was always there on terrifying missions when the stakes were far too high for her to handle alone. He was there when she was lonely and self-destructive. He was even there when she thought he was gone forever, and he always remembered her. He was a constant and she needed him. She needed the exact thing she had dreaded all those years ago because now her life was constantly changing, and she wanted control. She wanted control and he wanted to rest.

They could make it work.

Sure of her decision, Natasha leaned down and kissed him. Just like that it was over, and James was left staring up at her with a dagger buried in his shoulder. “That a good enough reason?” She murmured.

Instead of answering, he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her again. His tongue pried open her lips and she let them in greedily. Now there was nothing holding them back. They were alone at the edge of the world. Here they had no masters, no rules or programming, they were alone and they had found each other. 

Natasha shifted on top of him and brushed against the dagger, making him wince. “Sorry,” she laughed against his lips. He smiled and peered up at her until she kissed him again. They stayed entangled together in the snow for a short eternity. James was the first to pull away.

“I am sorry, Natalia.” She furrowed her brows at him. 

“It’s Natasha.” She leaned in to kiss him but he shifted away. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He looked guiltily down at his arm. Oh, she thought. “James, it wasn’t your fault. HYDRA was controlling you.” He winced against her, slowly bringing his gaze to hers.

“No...” he moved her until he was straddling her. His metal arm held her head up and he caressed her cheek with his human hand. “I’m sorry for this.” 

Natasha didn’t have time to respond before his hand pushed the pressure points behind her ears, sending her straight into oblivion. “Don’t come looking for me, little spider,” he muttered into her hair. “You won’t like what you find.”

***

“Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.”

Rusted...

The Red Room. He remembered-

“Солдат?”

No, no, not again. Don’t listen, your name is-

“Готовы подчиниться.”

They fed him his mission. He half listened. Anything to excuse an intentional misstep. He could say he didn’t understand the assignment. He didn’t find the target in time. Anything to excuse being seen by a camera, a civilian, even them-

The Avengers would find out. S.H.I.E.L.D. was now HYDRA. He knew this. He remembered the things they wanted him to remember, like how to kill. How to hunt. But he also remembered a man, someone from before. He was fleeting- unimportant. He was supposed to be, anyway.

He remembered red... and white. She always kept her hair red. So he could find her in the snow.

A flame in winter... He would find her. Even if he had to take down HYDRA himself, he would find her.

His masters moved on. They let him out like a hound dog to hunt his next target. He accomplished his mission. They wiped him if he got too familiar. Wash, rinse, repeat.

He always remembered red...

Once, he saw a woman running from him, screaming as most people usually did. But she seemed less afraid than the rest of them. She stared him down for a moment, like she might kill him with her eyes alone. He wouldn’t have noticed if not for her hair.

That day, he nearly missed his target. They wiped him. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The notebook was red. Blood was red. Rust was red. And she had red hair. It was like she was taunting him. She was always at the corner of his mind, popping up when blood hit concrete or his arm needed replaced, or even when he saw the red star that branded him in a mirror. 

The book was red. HYDRA had done him a favor in that. It made him remember her.

He almost killed her once. He almost killed Steve Rogers, too. Two people he could never quite recognize, even if they were right in front of him. He was from his past, she from his present. He figured he needed both to have a future, and HYDRA must’ve known it, too, because he almost killed them.

That day, he screamed when they wiped him. Begged. Cried. They didn’t listen. They never did.

But he woke, and the book was red, and her hair was red, and his shield was red, and The Winter Soldier remembered.

He’d find them. He’d find her. He had to finish what she started, after all. The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow had a game to finish. The spider had spun a new web, and he had flown into it.

The star was red like blood. The shield was red like rust. And her hair was red, like a flame in winter...

“Желание,   
Ржавый,   
Семнадцать,   
Рассвет,   
Печь,   
Девять,   
Доброкачественный,   
Возвращение на родину,   
Один,   
Грузовой вагон.”

Red...


End file.
